


the truth will set you free (but first it'll piss you off)

by mcwho



Series: we always have something to get over [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 0.2 grams of plot, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Humor, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Top Steve Rogers, at times - Freeform, bucky just wan sum fuk, pasta abandonment, sex ban, steve is being a baby okay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: Bucky doesn’t push it, he still has his dignity. Steve’s a grown man, if he says he doesn’t want it, then fine, no problem. Alright, he tried pushing it a little on the first day, opened the bathroom door and followed Steve into the shower, but Steve aimed the shower head at his face when he got handsy and Bucky smacked him across the arm and Steve laughed and Bucky strengthened his resolve to show Steve he didn’t give two shits about his little ‘punishment’.But, fuck. No sex. For a week.Steve’s a sick son of a bitch.





	the truth will set you free (but first it'll piss you off)

**Author's Note:**

> title is from lemon by N.E.R.D and rihanna because i had it on repeat the whole time i was writing this
> 
> ive never written pwp for the mcu so this whole fic is kind of my baby and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Bucky prides himself on his awareness of his surroundings. Picked up from his years in the army, but also beaten into him over about 70 years of being a hostage. 

You couldn’t go seven decades without ever being seen by anyone you weren’t trying to kill, without having sound knowledge of human behavioural patterns, that sense of what was going to happen before it happened. Sometimes Steve would pinch his cheek and coo, “My little clairvoyant”, and Bucky would swat his hand away because he didn’t like being _mocked_. 

At least he liked to act like he didn’t, now that Steve had chosen to become the dictionary definition of a cock-tease.

Bucky could usually see when something was coming his way. An object thrown at his head. A bullet on its way to his chest. Steve, about to snap and shove Bucky to his knees so he could shove other things into other places.

So, it’s driving him just a little crazy that his initial assessment was entirely skewed, and Steve wasn’t bluffing when he’d said he was banning Bucky from sex for a week.

It wasn’t anything Bucky did _wrong_. Steve was basically punishing him for being himself, the dickwad. So, yeah, maybe Bucky made a few comments, _joking_ ones, about how often Steve wanted it. Fuck, anyone would if they were taking two to three showers a day to clean the spunk out of their ass because Captain America didn’t know how to keep it in his pants for more than two hours at a time.

He wasn’t actually complaining, but Steve was already past the point of no return as soon as the words had left Bucky’s mouth, and there was no convincing him once he’d gotten all surly and ‘ _well I won’t bother you anymore then_ ’. 

Steve was just sensitive.

It’s been four days, and they’ve been long ones. All days off too, Bucky hasn’t even had a bad guy or two to lay into, take the edge off. He and Steve spend all the livelong day together, fully clothed.

In the evenings, they sleep together; just sleep, and Bucky doesn’t push it, he still has his dignity. Steve’s a grown man, if he says he doesn’t want it, then fine, no problem. Alright, he tried pushing it a little on the first day, opened the bathroom door and followed Steve into the shower, but Steve aimed the shower head at his face when he got handsy and Bucky smacked him across the arm and Steve laughed and Bucky strengthened his resolve to show Steve he didn’t give two shits about his little ‘punishment’.

But, fuck. No sex. For a week. 

Steve’s a sick son of a bitch.

It’s day four now and Bucky is restless at this point, practically bouncing off the walls, aching to be held still and made to focus, just for a little while. He’s not usually this bad, never knew how much he needed it until he couldn’t have it, until it was dangled in front of him just out of his reach. Even watching Steve _breathe_ is an exquisite torture, at this stage. 

No sex doesn’t mean no jerking off, of course. Steve could take his own cock out of commission all he liked, didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t take matters into his own hands.

He contradicted himself a lot because the fantasy that liked to buzz around his head was one where Steve had banned him from orgasms altogether for a week, and yet here Bucky was, fist wrapped tight around his dripping cock, jerking into it, two fingers pressing desperately into his hole. Steve would walk in on him, call him a slut, a _needy little floozy_ , and Bucky would shudder and grunt and come, and come, and _Yes, Steve, holy fuck_.

And that marked off the third orgasm of day four.

Bucky’s sure Steve knows exactly what he’s doing when he locks the bedroom door and turns on his handy Bluetooth speaker to the loudest volume, but the little bastard never says a word. Bucky will come back downstairs in a change of clothes, his hair tumbling out of its messy bun, cheeks flushed, and Steve will look at him with his stupid blue eyes and ask what he wants for lunch.

And yet, despite how unbothered he likes to act, Bucky _knows_ it’s getting to him, too. Just like when he was a hundred pounds soaking wet and brawling with college kids in back alleys – he’d bitten off more than he could chew, and now he would rather die than admit defeat. 

xxx

“Hey Steve?” Bucky calls, crouched in front of the cupboard by the sink. So many fucking cupboards in this apartment. So much storage space. Who even had enough stuff to fill it? He did now, apparently. He had to practice some breathing exercises every time he remembered he had five different types of colanders. Two of them were just the exact same one, in different colours. He- 

“What,” Steve said, coming into the kitchen, then pausing in the doorway. Amidst his inner materialist guilt monologue, Bucky’d nearly forgot he called him. “What are you wearing?”

Or not wearing, as it were. Bucky remains in his crouch for a few seconds longer, twisting at the waist to look up at Steve, through his eyelashes. He went out earlier in the afternoon, running errands. Steve's in jeans, a long-sleeved clingy white t-shirt and bare feet. Bucky's just a man. An enhanced one, yes, but fuck, his blood runs red just like everyone else's, and now it's all running south.

He had tried to wait the week out, but enough was enough.

“Been kinda warm lately,” Bucky explains smoothly, setting one of the colanders on the counter top and standing upright, arching his back more than strictly necessary.

He feels like a bitch in heat – here he is, in a tiny excuse for a pair of shorts, thin and cotton, and the smallest t-shirt he owned like he was fucking _presenting_ to Steve, begging for it.

“We have 24/7 aircon, Buck. Could’ve said something if you needed me to turn it up.”

Fucker.

“Nah,” Bucky says, checking the pasta he’d put on to boil. “I’m fine now. Can you come taste the sauce?”

Bucky has done unspeakable things in his life, with a steady hand, and a straight face. But the wooden spoon in his right hand practically vibrates as he hears Steve approach him

Steve is as close to him as he can possibly be without touching him. Bucky can feel his eyes on him, sharp and inquisitive. Bucky stirs the spoon through the sauce, then turns and brings it to Steve’s lips. He tastes obligingly, then nods. “Good. You gonna wear that all day?”

“Set the table?” Bucky asks him, turning around again and avoiding the question, not even subtly. The outfit is having _some_ effect – Bucky hadn’t been immediately thrown on top of the counter, so not as strong of an effect as he’d have _liked_ , but he could get behind a little delayed action. Late is better than never. 

He both loves and hates how fucking unpredictable his boyfriend is.

Steve does not go and set the table. He presses right up against Bucky instead, until he can feel every hard ridge of his body pressed against his back, his thighs. His breath against his neck. 

Bucky shivers.

Steve curves a huge hand around Bucky’s waist, and then runs it all the way down to cup his ass. Bucky makes a choked noise, hardly daring to move, like he’ll spook him if he even says a word, scare him off like a skittish animal. Steve makes a low, approving noise in his throat.

Then he drops his hand anyway. Backs away, calling, “On it,” to Bucky and getting two dinner plates out, real casual like, as if Bucky isn’t slumped against the sink with a hard on and a suddenly very short temper.

“For fucks sake,” he hisses at the sink.

“Watch it,” comes Steve’s voice, firm, no wiggle room. 

Oh, Bucky’ll wiggle alright.

“ _You_ fuckin’ watch it,” Bucky near-growls, turning around to face him. The shorts he’s got on are pretty much just boxer briefs, who’s he kidding. They hide approximately nothing. His fully hard dick is on show and Steve’s setting out the cutlery and Bucky can’t find it in him to feel even a little embarrassed. “It’s been four days, this is stupid,” Bucky grits out, coming as close to actually verbally _asking_ for it as he’s gotten during this trying time.

“You’ve gone four, you can go three more,” Steve tells him, infuriatingly calm, openly looking over at the bulge in his shorts. “You need a break, sweetheart? You seem awful worked up. I can take over dinner, if you want to go upstairs and take care of that.”

Bucky’s eye honest to God twitches.

“I hate you,” he breathes. “You’re a fucking prick, I hate you so fucking much–”

“No you don’t,” Steve grins.

No, Bucky doesn’t.

Bucky drops the spoon clenched in his fist to the ground. He was starting to splinter it anyway. As he storms out of the room, he feels Steve’s eyes on his ass and wants to scream. This is him trying his _best_ , damn it. He doesn’t do skimpy clothes often, and he sure as hell doesn’t beg, not with words anyway, but this is as close as anything, and if Steve still isn’t willing then – then fine. That’s just fucking dandy. 

He tells himself that all the way up the stairs, his hand cupping himself, cheeks burning the more he dwells on it, feet thumping on the floor as he thinks of Steve in the kitchen tipping the pasta into a fucking colander while Bucky lies in their bed upstairs and fucks himself silly while choking out Steve’s name, and then comes back downstairs, _unsatisfied_ , to eat and talk about some stupid, _inane_ fucking thing, and Bucky pretended not to be losing his mind – 

Before Bucky knows what he’s doing, he’s turning around again, practically stomping back down the stairs, right back into the kitchen. Steve doesn’t even turn around, the asshole. Bucky doesn’t tap his shoulder so much as smack it twice, and when Steve finally decides to turn and grace him with his attention, Bucky wraps an arm around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him, hard.

Steve makes a noise Bucky can only equate to a squawk, wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s throat and pulling him back. Bucky is panting and not above shoving a hand into his pants while Steve looks at him like a puppy he’s just caught humping his foot.

“ _Steve_ ,” he says, voice broken, not just because Steve’s partially cutting off his airways. 

“’S the matter?” Steve asks, walking Bucky backwards until his back hits the dining room table. Bucky swallows, arching his hips against the solid wall of muscle in front of him, until Steve presses right up against him, so close he can’t move. 

“Gee, I wonder,” Bucky says, voice cracking twice.

“Mhm,” Steve rumbles, suddenly groping Bucky’s ass again, like he just can’t help it, pressing the thin fabric of his skimpy shorts between his cheeks, against his hole. Bucky shivers, flushing all over. “Why don’t you try that again?”

He _knows_ what Steve wants.

And fine. _Fine_.

“Please,” Bucky whispers, staring at the ceiling with his hands braced against the table and Steve’s fist around his neck, Steve’s thigh pressed between his legs. 

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice when he asks, “Please what?”

“Come on, Steve, don’t be a d–”

Steve’s other hand, the one probing Bucky’s ass as best as it can through his underwear, grips Bucky’s thigh and hoists him up onto the table. Bucky’s feet graze the floor, and the change in position allows Steve to stand between his thighs properly, allowing Bucky time to reconsider any hasty statements he might wish to make. 

“You want something,” Steve says, voice like gravel, pressing even closer, the hand on his neck sliding into his hair so he can tilt Bucky’s head back down to look at him, “you ask for it.”

Bucky shivers, staring into Steve’s eyes. He should’ve known better, trying to out-stubborn _Steve Rogers_.

“I need it,” Bucky admits in an exhale. His hips roll against Steve’s wantonly. 

“Gonna need a little more than that, Buck,” Steve says, voice deceptively soft and soothing. “What do you need, hm?”

“God I hate you,” Bucky groans.

“But you don’t hate my cock, do you sweetheart?” Steve asks, _gripping_ Bucky, squeezing the bulge in his pants. So many points of contact, so much stimulation. Bucky feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. His cock leaks, soaking the thin cotton. He gasps and Steve’s left eyebrow quirks upwards in amusement, the fucker’s practically _laughing_ at him.

Steve tugs on his hair a little harder. “Desperate’s a good look on you. You look good when you’re begging for it.”

And mother of fuck, fuck it, Bucky would beg for it, plead for it, set up a non-profit charity for it if it got Steve in him _now_.

“Come _on_ ,” he groans, voice slipping past that thin line between demanding and whiny.

“Tired of your fingers, baby? Bet they weren’t enough, huh? Could finger fuck yourself to high heaven, it’d never compare. ‘S not enough, not what you need.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky pants. Steve slips a hand into his shorts, and wraps it around his cock. Bucky squirms, and Steve guides him onto his back, and Bucky lays there, splayed out on the table where they eat, fucking into Steve’s fist. “Fuck,” he groans, both an exclamation and a request. 

“You want it in you, Barnes?” He asks, voice rough. His lips brush against Bucky’s jaw. “Come on, tell me.”

“Yes,” Bucky hisses, bucking. “Yes, I want it, give it to me.”

“Would hate to plague you with my inconsiderately high sex drive,” Steve says, pressing his cock against Bucky’s thigh. “You know I like to look out for you.” He twists his wrist on the next few upstrokes, tilting his head and sucking on the spot on Bucky’s neck he’s been mouthing at. “Just wanna make sure you know what you’re asking for.”

Bucky could cry. His head is hot with arousal, frustration, and that delicious pang of embarrassment.

“Fuck me,” Bucky moans. “Come on, please, just _do_ it already, I’m _sorry_.”

“There you go,” Steve coos, releasing Bucky’s cock and finally working his shorts off. “Was that so hard?

Steve’s the _worst_.

“I’ll show you h- _hard_ ,” Bucky squeaks as Steve pushes a dry finger against his hole, pushing back against it and moaning while Steve licks into his open mouth, hot and persistent, biting at his bottom lip, sucking on his tongue. Bucky groans, hands threading their way into Steve’s hair, whining, “Please, come on, please” just to push Steve’s buttons a little and also – okay, it feels a little nice to say, to put his pleasure in Steve’s hands. It unwinds the knot in Bucky’s stomach, makes him feel that bit looser, less tense. 

Steve moans into his mouth. “That’s what I like to hear,” he hums. The sadist. 

He reaches behind him, and Bucky hears the _snick_ of a bottle cap being opened. Bucky’s eyes flicker open. “Is that-“ He pulls back, looking at the bottle in Steve’s hand in indignation. “’s that _lube_? Were you just carrying lube on you this whole time?”

“Just today,” Steve grins, smearing the thick liquid over his fingers to warm it up. “Figured you’d crack by sunset.” Bucky’s left hand whirs, tightening in Steve’s hair.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that, Rogers?” Bucks asks, his very serious, menacing tone undercut by the way he spreads his thighs wider for Steve to finally press a finger into him.

“It’s not my fault you’re predictable. Been staring at me all day like you wanted me for dinner. The get-up was a nice touch, though,” Steve hums, eyeing the pair of shorts lying on the floor. “I almost cracked first. Almost.” 

Steve slips another finger into him. Bucky doesn’t even have the time to shout with rage at being called _predictable_ , how dare Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve moans, quiet, like Bucky isn’t even meant to hear. He pushes his fingers shallowly into him, curling them like he’s relishing in the feel of Bucky wrapped around him. 

Bucky whines, high in his throat. His cock leaks against his stomach, leaving a sticky pool as Steve curls his fingers, long fingers massaging his sweet spot. Bucky gasps, a long _nnnggghh_ sticking in his throat, arching off the table. Steve pushes him right back down, then wraps his mouth around the head of Bucky’s cock and sucks. Bucky’s moaning, head tilted back against the table as Steve assaults his prostate.

“Jesus,” Bucky groans, right hand gripping the edge of the table. “Steve, _Stevie_ , you can’t, you gotta stop, ‘m gonna come.”

Bucky realises too late that this was the wrong thing to say.

Steve swallows him down, suddenly, without warning, forcing another finger into the tight squeeze of him. Bucky’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open. He manages to prop himself up on an elbow to look at Steve, he’s not missing this for the world. Steve’s looking right back at him, red lips stretched around Bucky’s cock and blinking up at him with those baby blues. 

“Oh – oh, _baby_ , fuck,” Bucky hisses, arching against Steve as he spills into him, shuddering through his most intense orgasm in days into Steve’s hot, wet mouth. Gasping, his head thumps back against the table on his release, chest heaving.

Steve sucks him until Bucky’s soft and squirming, and then slowly pulls his fingers out of him. Bucky looks up at Steve, eyes hooded, as he undoes his belt buckle and kicks his pants off. 

“Wore me out,” Bucky mutters as Steve grabs Bucky by the waist and pulls him to the edge of the table, until his ass is practically hanging off it. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, cocky and challenging. Bucky loves when he gets like this. He’s had the same air about him for the past few days which is part of what’s made them so difficult. It was a very arousing conundrum. 

“Yeah,” Bucky huffs, letting Steve push his knees even further apart. “Sensitive enough already. Could do some real damage with that thing.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Steve tells him, pressing into him, slow, controlled. Bucky moans at the stretch. He wasn’t kidding about being sensitive, and Steve’s cock is _big_ , a thick, unforgiving shove into him, forcing Bucky open. Steve braces his hand by Bucky’s head, his eyes flickering from Bucky’s face, to watching his cock disappear up inside of him. 

“Oh,” Bucky whimpers, quiet, broken, “That’s – yes, yeah, f – fuck me, c’mon,” Bucky babbles, unhinged, cock twitching back to life against his stomach. 

“Shit, that’s a tight fit,” Steve grunts, buried to the hilt now. Bucky tightens around him, gasping for air, and Steve rolls his hips. “That’s it, ask me for it, tell me what you want.”

Does Bucky ever. 

Steve drills into him, there’s no other word for it. The table shakes beneath them, the force of Steve’s thrusts knocking the breath out of Bucky. Steve’s always like this, likes to hold Bucky down and just _take_ , take what’s his, lay his claim, and it gets Bucky going like nothing else. 

Bucky’s eyes smart, tears leaking out the corners. Bucky brings his hand up to wipe at his eyes, ends up just resting his forearm over his face because more take their place. Steve grabs Bucky’s arm and pins it above his head, leans down to fuck Bucky’s mouth with his tongue.

“Emotional, honey?” Steve asks, teasing. Bucky makes an unintelligible noise, pleasure coursing down his spine and pooling in his belly, whining. “I know,” Steve hums, kissing him stupid. “My little crybaby.”

“More,” Bucky pleads. Steve hooks Bucky’s legs over his shoulders and fucks into him hard and fast, and Bucky lets out a sound close to a scream.

“God, that’s it,” Steve breathes, hand wrapping loosely around Bucky’s cock, hard enough to pound nails. “How could I say no to that pretty face, ‘specially when you ask me so sweet like that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky moans, voice ragged. “Stevie, _yeah_ , don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Bucky’s too far gone to help the desperate whimpers Steve fucks out of him, and when Steve pushes cups Bucky’s face and then pushes his thumb between Bucky’s lips for him to suck on, Bucky’s done for, coming all over his stomach, shooting all the way up to his chin. 

“Oh, Buck,” Steve moans, gathering up the drop of come on Bucky’s cheek and pushing it into Bucky’s mouth. Steve is fucking filthy and Bucky loves it. “Oh, baby, so fucking _tight_ when you come for me, gonna make me come, fill you up just like you’ve been asking, God, _Jesus_ , sweetheart.” Steve’s cock pulses, buried inside him, and he leans down to kiss Bucky, sloppy, licking the taste of his come out of his mouth until he’s done. 

“Steven _Grant_.” Bucky says it like an expletive. 

Steve laughs into Bucky’s neck, the giggliest fucker around now he’s gotten his rocks off. People thought Bucky had an evil alter-ego, they should see their beloved Captain America before and after an orgasm.

“Who’s greedy for it now, huh?” Steve hums. 

“You’re ridiculous. I don’t even like you,” Bucky claims, while Steve’s come drips out of his ass. 

“You’re just full ‘a lies, Bucky ‘I Don’t Beg’ Barnes.”

Bucky flushes despite himself. “Shut up,” he says lamely. 

“It was hot,” Steve tells him. “Seein’ you want it so bad.”

“I always want it that bad. I was just teasing with what I said before, you drama queen,” Bucky mutters, ruffling Steve’s hair.

“Still,” Steve says, running his lips over Bucky’s pulse point. “I could get used to it. Have to get you like this more often.”

Bucky has created a monster.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you all thought of it :))
> 
> also rip bucky, accidental kink discoverys a bitch. orgasm denial anybody?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] the truth will set you free (but first it'll piss you off)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955946) by [mcwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho), [thatsmysecret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmysecret/pseuds/thatsmysecret)




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